


Wo/man

by goodonebrea



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Gender Identity, Gender Roles, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:16:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodonebrea/pseuds/goodonebrea
Summary: Sometimes the line between man and woman is blurred, and sometimes it is burned away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I wrote for my Adv Eng class, if you want to leave feedback please do!

I stared into my open closet; dresses, skirts, blouses and my damned high heels. How did other men wear these things? I reached for the first dress; it was bright red, soft and ended just under my knees. Grasping it I ran my hands over the fabric. It felt smooth to touch; meant to represent a man’s loving exterior and made for women to hold and then hastily remove.  
I did not like dresses.  
Turning I threw the dress back into the cupboard and slammed the door shut. Today was MY day I would not be held by society’s ideals. I spun around to the opposite side of the room to face my wives clothes cupboard. She had left for work early this morning and wouldn’t be home till late tonight, where she would bustle through the door, go straight to our room, get changed and come back demanding where her dinner was.  
“Dinner will be ready soon” I would say. She acted as if I hadn’t done anything all day, as if I was off until two hours before she came home where I would promptly turn on, clean the house and have dinner ready perfectly in time with her arrival home.  
Striding quickly to her side of the room I stared into the mirror attached to her cupboard and watched myself get closer. I was lanky, tall and had absolutely no hips whatsoever; I was nothing like a man should be.  
I sharply pulled the door to the cupboard open. I was greeted my suits, shirts, jeans and flat enclosed shoes. I made a grab for the shoes and raced to get them on. I felt like a young teenager, doing something they didn’t want their parents to see, the only difference now was that my parents were dead and if they were alive, I would be dead.  
I sat on the edge of our bed; the quilt was white and was adorned with blue swirls. It was silky and soft under my legs. I held the shoes in my lap and ran my hands over them. They were rough and course to touch, parts caught under my hands and the laces entangled my fingers. Their dull colours contrasted greatly compared to the bright blue and white of our bedspread. She was allowed to be dark, simple and mysterious, while I had to second guess every choice I made to ensure that she liked what I was wearing; that it wasn’t sloppy, wasn’t too bright, wasn’t too tight, wasn’t too “promiscuous” as she liked to call it.  
Undoing the laces of the shoes I laid them down onto the floor gently besides my feet.  
Socks, I needed socks.  
Jumping up I ran to the drawers at the end of our bed and wrenched open the top drawer. I blindly reached in, not caring what colour I had; it didn’t really matter, no one would ever see them. I strode back to my spot on the bed and reached down to slip the socks over my feet. They were old and were beginning to fray around the opening; my wife must wear them a lot. Now with the socks on, I glanced nervously over to the shoes beside my feet on the floor. They were still there, I couldn’t disturb the feeling that someone would burst in at any minute and rip them from my hands. Shaking my head I leaned down and slid my left foot into one of the shoes.  
They were too big, but that didn’t matter. They felt wonderful; I couldn’t get enough of it. I quickly reached back down to slide my right foot into the other shoe.  
Apparently it could get better.  
The shoes were already worked in and my feet did not fit, but they were the best shoes I had ever tried on. I slowly rose from the bed to stand, I don’t know what I was expecting, but with how I usually end up on the floor from my heels it was a pleasant surprise to be upright. So there I was standing in the corner of our room, in a pair of old ratty shoes and pink fluffy towel. I took a step forward and another until I was racing around our room. Jumping over the bed, a dark blue shirt caught my eye in my wives cupboard.  
She wouldn’t be home till late.  
What was the harm in it?  
I crawled from the bed and opened the door the rest of the way. The dark blue shirt called to me, I reached for it, pulled it out and sat it smoothly onto our bed. I began to dig further into the closet, finding a pair of black dress pants with a matching blazer and tie. Laying the clothes all together onto our bed, they showed me a lovely aspiration of power, wealth and respect. I dropped my towel from around me and began to dress. Pulling the pants up my legs I noticed how scratchy they were, I didn’t care. Doing the zipper up I reached for the dress shirt and pushed my arms through each sleeve. The fabric was stiff from not being worn in so long - that would definitely not be a problem anymore- once I had my arms in I started doing the buttons up. Once they were done all the way to my neck I picked up the tie. It looked weird, how did women wear these things every day? I couldn’t even think of how to tie it. Sitting down on the bed again I pulled the tie behind my neck so each end hung equally on either side of me. I had seen my wife do this a million times, I had to have taken something in. I’ll just wing it.  
I put the triangle shaped end over the thinner end of the tie, and then looped the smaller one over the bigger end and then under. I knew that was right, I had definitely seen her do that before. I then pulled the bigger end through the fabric looped around my neck and pushed it through the smaller loop on the tie.  
Done.  
I looked up at myself in the mirror, I felt powerful; like I could take on the world, that everyone would listen to me. Why would anyone ever want to take these clothes off? Why would anyone want to go back to being lower, and disrespected just because of their gender? I certainly did not.  
Standing up again I walked confidently to my side of the room; to my closet. I threw the door open, everything in here was a symbol for weakness. The purple skirt I had worn for my first job interview, made me feel like a pathway; everyone just walked all over me. That short, black dress that made the legal system work harder to find out if I “asked for it”, that made me the desired object of others. I ripped the clothes from their hangers and threw them onto our bed, the sharp metal points caught my hands and I could feel the blood running to the surface. I emptied my closet onto our bed and stared at the pile of bad intentions and questionable dress manufacture. I didn’t need these clothes anymore; there was no need for me as a man in this world.  
I walked over to my bedside table, opened the top drawer and pulled out my lighter. Returning to our bed I grabbed the bright red dress I had seen before and held it to my lighter. It set alight quickly, gotta’ love cotton.  
I dropped the dress into the centre of the clothes pile and they began igniting slowly. This is probably a good time to leave. I opened the door to our room and descended down the stairs into our kitchen. Smoke had started to waft into the hall now. I stood in front of the open fridge and searched for something to eat. What did I feel like? What did women eat at this time of the morning? Protein? Beer? Raw eggs? I didn’t know. I made a grab for the milk bottle, milk had protein right? I drank it straight from the bottle like I’d seen my wife do a hundred times before. Turning away from the fridge I realised that the kitchen had filled with smoke. I covered my mouth with my hand and started walking to our lounge room.  
I had to do one thing before I left. Running over to the lone plush chair, I sat down. Well, what do you know, this was the best spot to see the TV from, no wonder she always sat there. Standing up I walked to the table beside the front door, grabbed my keys, wallet and did one more spin of our house and then waltzed out the door.  
Quickly striding down the stone driveway I smiled to myself, I could smell the smoke; the fire brigade will be here soon. And I will be gone.


End file.
